


Discord and Dishonor

by Raeror



Category: Actor RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:10:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raeror/pseuds/Raeror
Summary: The life and times of the r/fanfiction Discord group





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tafferling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tafferling/gifts).



The Discordia Asylum. _Home sweet horror._ DieDoktor thought to himself as his hearse rolled up the street of Syracuse, New York. Once known as the Quizilla Penitentiary, DieDoktor had bought the penitentiary and gave the place an overhaul. He used it as the crux of his new enterprise: creating, supplying and distributing fanfiction all around the world. He had sent invites to the most popular fanfiction writers from various fandoms from all around the planet in an effort to unite them and create a congregation of imagination, creativity, and ingenuity. The world would have a second Renaissance under these writers.

They all declined.

So doktor went to the 2nd most popular writers.

They all declined.

As did the 3rd, 4th, 5th, 6th, and the 7th, oh god how vehemently did the 7th most popular writers reject him in unison. 7 was supposed to be a lucky number too.

Eventually, Doktor wandered around the worlds of fanfiction, desperately seeking anyone who would join him in his cause. And, one at a time, curious writers seeking to make it big would come to him. Unfortunately, each and every single one of them was a bona fide lunatic. Either from straight out of the gate, or the other inmates of his Asylum would corrupt them soon enough. The only things that kept him going was to see the looks on the faces of both readers and writers when they had found that spark, that moment of glorious excitement that literature could bring. Someday, his company Discord would grow to gargantuan heights, and he will be celebrated as the man who created it all. But for now, at least he had his hearse.

Doktor looked at the picture on his dashboard. As nice as the hearse was, he real dream was to someday drive a T-72 tank with its 46 MM canon and 7.62 MM machine gun. No one would ever cut in front of him in traffic ever again. _Someday._ He thought to himself.

Doktor pulled up into the driveway. His hearse was loaded in groceries, and he sure as hell wasn't going to unload them.

"GROCERIES!" He yelled into the air. "COME ON OUT AND GET THEM! IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE FOOD LIONS AND EAT IT ALL, AT LEAST UNPACK IT!"

Someone came outside, looking groggy and annoyed. "Dok, what the hell are you screaming about?" Ashes came outside in bunny slippers, pajama pants, and a shirt that said 'Stony is the best because it's rock hard.'

"Help me get groceries."

Ashes when into the side of the car, and came out with a bag of sour cream and onion chips. "Helped you unpack."

"Why the hell did I make you a moderator again?"

"Because if you fire me I'll rip out your spine and use it for my bookshelf. That's why." She said, walking right past him.

"Just so you know, I pay Deejay and Taffer more!" He called out as she walked back inside. Doktor grumbled, no one was coming outside. Only one thing left to do.

Cupping his hands over his mouth, Dok shouted out at the top of his lungs. "I HAVE ALCHOHOL!"

"DID SOMEONE SAY ALCOHOL?"

Dok smiled. He could always rely on alcoholism. "3...2..1..."

"YAHOOOOOO!"

He looked up and saw a man jump out of the window. "WHIIIIIIIIIISKEEEEEH!"

"Hi silver!" Dok called out at Silver crash landed on the top of his hearse. "I got your favorite! All you have to do is unpack all the groceries! You can stop when you find it!"

"SWEET! THANKS DOK!" Silver immediately started grabbing bags and rushing off into the house with them.

Doktor smiled. Silver was always so reliable when it came to unpacking. As long as he was looking for the drinks, he would come back again and again and again...

"I know you keep the alcohol under the driver's seat Dok."

Dok turned around in shock. "Cy-Fox? How did you know?" He turned a saw a man with unkempt hair on his face and a Tails shirt on.

"Yeah, it's me. Every now and again you forget to put it in the driver's seat under your feet and you run around the car and get it before you announce yourself home. Yeah, I see when you do that."

He reached for the groceries in the back anyway. "I'll humor you and play along though. Let's just get these groceries in. By the way, where the hell is Cheeky Bastard? Doesn't he help you out with this?"

Dok looked around. "Yeah, where is Rae anyway?"

"I'M COMING!" He heard a voice yell out. "I JUST HAVE ALOT OF EXTRA WEIGHT ON ME. ALOT. ITS REALLY HEAVY!"

"IT'S* YOU CLOD!"

Doktor and Cy-Fox stood and watched as Raeror came outside with Pug riding on his shoulders.

"Should I even ask?" Dok said.

"She beat me in arm wrestling." Raeror admitted, holding his head in shame.

Cy-Fox looked at the petite blond girl wearing a pug shirt, then at the giant man who was twice her size. "How... just, how?"

"She kicked me in my shins under the table. I didn't even know she could reach that far." Rae said.

"He could either watch an episode of Degrassi with me, or he could give a piggyback ride all day." Pug smiled. "He made his choice."

"Well, in this case its a puggyback ride, and I know I made the right choice."

"It's*."

"If you can carry Pug, you can carry a bag. Take this." Doktor handed the Rae bag.

"Why not Pug too?" Cy-Fox said. "She does have her hands free."

"Fair point." Dok also handed Pug a bag, which covered over Rae's eyes.

"UM! WE HAVE A PROBLEM HERE!" He said.

"Oh relax! I'll tell you where to go." Pug replied. "Left, straight... straight... straight... right... left."

Raeror turned and smacked face first into the concrete wall. "OW, GODDAMNIT THAT HURT!"

"That was for the fat joke, you pleb."

Raeror turned around and backed into the wall, crushing Pug between a rock and a hard-headed place.

"OOF! OUCH THAT HURT! I AM GOING TO SMACK YOU WITH THIS BAG."

"You break it, you buy it!" Dok shouted as Silver ran by him again. "WHERE ARE YOU BOURBON?" Silver picked a bag at random and started to look through it. "DAMN, IT'S NOT IN HERE EITHER!"

"Well since you have your hands on it, take it inside."

"I NEED MY SCOTCH TAPE TO HOLD ME TOGETHER!" Silver shouted in agony as he dashed back in.

One by one, the groceries got unpack from the hearse and taken into the kitchen where they would be sorted. Amaranthium and her wolf stood guard, making sure no one hid anything under their clothes on the way back to their rooms.

GROCERY RETRIVAL ACTIVATE- INITIATING . A robot came crawling outside, with thin arms a giant head.

"Oh, I see it's Flake's Myr coming out. Myr: call up Flake, now."

BEEP BOOP BEEP BOOP

"...Hello?"

"Flakes it's me, dinner is gonna be ready in an hour or two, where are you?"

"We're making one more stop in Toronto, and then I'll be on my back. Give me a few hours."

"Fine, see you when you get here."

Doktor turned back to the ant. "Meanwhile, you can help put this away."

Getting the last of the bags, Doktor locked the door as a gust of wind started to blow at the edge of the driveway.

"Oh, NOW he wants to show up." Dok muttered as the gust of wind became a swirling tornado on the lawn. When the tornado was gone, a man had appeared, dressed in a red tie with a black jacket and black gloves.

"'Ello chaps." The man said.

"You're late 42." Dok said.

"The groceries are unpacked, but the food's not being eaten. I'd say that I'm right on time." He said as he walked into the house.

"42? Why are you here? Don't you have a house in England? Along with your _own_ food?" Taffer asked.

"Yes I do." He responded. "Bills are great there since I'm here a good amount of the time. And since I can eat here, I don't have to buy food. So thanks for that."

"You are such a cheapskate! You already don't pay gas, now you want free food and free room and board."

"Hey, I'm Doktor's Discord European ambassador, I work for this. Second of all, I do drive a car, and my Mini Cooper is amazing."

"Well you're going to have to pay for my food, that steak is costing you 6 dollars."

"Sure." 42 opened his wallet. "Do you want that in pounds, euros, or sterling? I definitely want you to get the best deal, so I'll let your pick."

"Oh fuck you, I'm burning your steak." Taffer walked away, muttering under her breath.

"Aren't pounds and sterling the same thing? Doktor asked.

42 put his finger to his mouth. "Shhhhh. Gotta keep them guessing."

They walked by Amara putting up a picture of a waterfall. "Woah, that's beautiful. Where is that from?" 42 asked.

"Since Amara can no longer go to Yellowstone, she's putting up pictures of the place everywhere in the asylum.

"So just to be clear: Flake's into blue water, Amara's into Yellowstone, and Taffer's into Redfield?"

"And Squid wants a green card to get away from his parents."

"Got it. Let's eat."


	2. Good Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: How to love with a ferret

Dee Hircus was a very busy woman. She didn't become the most successful goat farmer in the American Great Plains by being a slouch, you know.

But success demanded effort. And every morning she felt the effects of her effort. The alarm clock at her bedside mocked her weary body. _It's_ _6:00, you withered corpse._ It beeped. _6:00. Get up._

Dee just stared at the infernal machine. She used to be able to shut it off instantly. On some days she would straight up just deck the fucker. But over the years, her strength had waned. Now all she could do was curl up in the bed and wait for her body to gather the energy needed to throw out only a measly little slap, all the while Dee had actually gone through 8 alarm clocks. Number 9 however, was a cheeky cunt. It had come in at just the right time. And it damn knew it too. It just stood there, catcalling a force of deestruction that had been tamed by time.

 _6:04._ The alarm clock buzzed out. _I can do this all day. Just look at you, you haven't even moved. I am the master. I decide when you rise. So come on you filthy cretin, your master is wait-_

SMOCK! The alarm clock had been silenced, sent to the depths of irrelevancy for one more day.

Dee looked down at her savior. A small, gray-white ferret looked back up at her and smiled, saying good morning in Dookanese.

"Shit. That thing is annoying, isn't it?" A voice whispered in her ear.

"I agree." Dee clutched her pillow tighter. "Ferrets need to be genocided. Immediately."

"I'll keep that in mind the next time the clock is kicking you ass." The voice responded. "So, tomorrow."

The ferret jumped up and scampered into the arms Ferret, Dee's savior of the day. "Morning gorgeous." She gave Dee a kiss on the cheek."

"I thought we agreed that the ferrets would stay on your side of the bed." Dee said. "Every time I smell even a little like goat cheese they like to bite my ass off."

"Oh Dee, you can't blame my ferrets for being a little curious." Ferret leaned in. "There's nothing more I love than a bite of you." Softly as she could, Ferret bit down on Dee's neck.

Dee gave a little cry. Oh boy. If you gave Ferret an inch, you could expect the mile not far behind.

Ferret grabbed Dee's waist, fingers dancing along the tank top. "Why haven't you killed this one like you killed 8?" Ferret asked. "8 was my favorite. It had stripes and those itty bitty polka dots that we so cute, and it was in various shades of blue, to appease everybody! It was perfect."

"7 was the best one," Dee responded. "It was my limited edition Criminal Minds clock. And what happened to it? You had your ferrets jump off of the walls and one of them crushed my clock."

"Can we both agree that 9 is the worst one? Come one, it's got paisley on it."

"I'll agree with that. I'd like nothing more than to have that to punch that thing's brains in Foyet-style."

"Then why do we still have 9?" Ferret asked.

"9 is saying because you need to suffer for 7's murder," Dee responded. "If the clocks were animals, 7 would have swallowed 9 whole."

"So it's confirmed that 7 8 9." Ferret giggled.

Dee groaned. "Why? Why would you do that?"

"You set it up for me. You have no one to blame but yourself."

"Come on Ferret. I'm tired. And I have to go to work," Dee pleaded.

"If you're tired, then stay," Ferret said.

"But I really need to get up." Dee tried to break free.

"Stay." Ferret pinned her back down to the bed.

Dee turned around to face her captive. "Ferret..."

Ferret grabbed the back of Dee's neck and pulled her in, embracing her love with a passionate kiss. Dee worked herself too hard, but she would never admit it. Sometimes Ferret needed to be a bit forceful with Dee. Not that Ferret minded. She loved a good chase, but a chase was all about the reward. Eventually, Ferret pulled away, the both of them panting. Ferret pinned Dee to the bed and got on top of her, looking into Dee's beautiful eyes. Ferret could see the lust, the excitement, but also the conflict. Dee would need a little more convincing. With a quick glance Ferret looked at the clock. 6:10.

"You still have time." Ferret said, pulling up Dee's tank top. "I'm sure Ashes and Taff can hold down the fort until you arrive."

"I still don't want to be late," Dee said. "A good boss sets an example for her workers."

"It's fine, you have time." Ferret bent over and kissed Dee's naval, before dragging her tongue across her lover's body. "10 minutes." She crawled forward and gave Dee another kiss on the lips.

 _"10 minutes,"_ Dee responded back.


	3. Crunch Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Styles Clash

                                                                                                        

" _Two Soldiers._ _One mission._ _Prove their the best at combating the zombie apocalypse._ Welcome to CRUNCH TIME!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Crunch Time! I'm your host, Taff. Time to meet the contestants.

On the left, we have Kyle Crane. On the right, we have Chris Redfield."

Here are the rules: your respective areas will be crawling with zombies. You have to navigate your way through the area, find the hostage, and bring them back out safely. The first person to bring their hostage back first wins. And they will be known as the best zombie fighter alive."

"The rules are: complete the objective by any means necessary. Keep the hostage safe. Get back to the finish line."

Crane will be packing a pair of M1911s and a crowbar- excuse me. Cranebar.

Chris will start off with a Glock 17 and an Assault Shotgun.

"Good luck to you both. When you get the signal, start running."

Crane got into a runner's position. "Wait, what was the signal again?"

"Taff said it would an air horn," Chris replied.

"Alright. Thanks." He extended his hand. "Good luck."

Chris met the handshake, shaking Crane's hand jubilantly. "Same to you. Go kick some ass."

A gunshot cracked the air.

Crane jumped and turned his head. "What was tha-"

Something smashed his jaw, and Crane dropped like a sack of potatoes.

Taff pocketed a crisp 20 as she walked outside.  _Pleasure doin' business with ya Chris._ Chris was already gone.

Taff walked up to Crane. He was lying on the ground, knocked out pretty good. A small pool of blood was forming around his head.

Taff gently nudged her foot against his shoulder. "Umm... Crane? You okay buddy?"

He started to stir. "Wh...what happened? Oh Christ, my mouth."

"Chris suckered punched you when your hand was turned."

"That's right, the signal. That fucker. Shit. Now I know how a baseball feels."

He stood back to his feet. "Dickbag. He knew I'd smoke him in the initial race, so he jumped me to buy himself some time. Roidfeild in full effect."

"Maybe you should get bandaged," Taff suggested. "He looks like he got you pretty good."

"Oh, fuck that!" Crane smeared the blood on his shirt. "I ain't taking that lying down!"

He charged into his area.

"If he has a concussion, that's going to affect his vision, especially when aiming..." Taff thought it over. "I should probably get ready to bail him out."

"So, while I'm getting dressed for contestant rescue, we'll put the cameras on that naughty boy Chris. On with the show!"

Chris saw the villa come into view. There were a few zombies in front of the gate.

 _Showtime._  Chris aimed his Glock for a couple of headshots.  _Click._

Nothing came out.

"What?"

Chris fired again.  _Click. Click. Click. Click._

Was it already empty?

Chris switched to his shotgun.  _Click! Click!_

They were both empty!

"Taff, I thought you said my guns were loaded!" He broke into a run as the zombies realized his presence. "Why don't these things have any ammo?"

"I'm not sure! They were supposed to be loaded!" Taff padded a crisp 50 in her pocket.  _Pleasure doing business with you, Crane._

"I guess that explains why I felt so light!" He hopped a fence and made a beeline for a high wall. "You said ammo would be scattered around here, right?"

"Check in the trees and in bushes." Taff said.

"I see a tree coming right up." Chris said. "And some ammo right at the bottom." Chris made a beeline for the tree.

A zombie fell out of the tree, sprawling on the ground. "SHIT!" Chris grabbed the zombie's head as it lunged at him. He slammed the zombie into the tree headfirst, cracking its neck with a loud pop.

Picking up the ammo box, Chris quickly loaded his Glock.

 _Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!_ The zombies fell as Chris put bullets right into their brains.

"That's more like it." Chris said. "And look, one of them dropped a key. I wonder where it goes to."

"Alright, since Chris seems to be getting himself situated, let's check back in on Kyle." Taff narrated.

* * *

Kyle hopped a fence. The target was only a couple of miles away. He was good. He was good. That headache was not gonna stop him.

A brick would stop him, however. Not seeing it coming, Crane tripped over a brick and landed flat on his face.

"Ooooooooooooow." He moaned.

Hearing the grunts of zombies get louder, Crane got back up, wiping the bloody bits of rock off his face.

He pulled out his guns. "Fuck off."

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.

Some of the zombies fell, but not all of them. He should have had plenty of ammo, yet he was empty already.

"Shit." He took out his Cranebar and starting hacking them down

CRASH! SMACK! BASH! POW! SMASH! CRUNCH! WHACK! BONK!

"Ah, that's what's so great about melee weapons," Crane said as he stood in the innards of his now even deader foes. "Never jam. Never need to reload."

"Crane, you are not okay. You really need to get out of there." Taff said. "I'm on my way. Meet me in a safe location somewhere high and I'll find you."

"I'm not letting Chris win this. I ain't going out like no bitch. Besides, I can see the target building. I'm still in this race."

He went up to a building and started climbing a ladder. "I just need to avoid all these zombies and get vertical."

As he got higher and higher, Kyle started feeling a little...  _woozy._  "Wew! Must be something in the air." He could feel his vision blur. Oh please. That might have been a problem to a scrub like Redfield, but no way was Kyle Crane getting stopped by this.

"Kyle, I think you've gotten high enough," Taff said.

"Nope, I'm almost at the top," Crane said, definitely moving with a little less gusto than before. His head slightly wobbled back and forth. Nonetheless, he kept moving forward. "I can do this. I can do this, I can do th-"

His foot slipped off the ladder. Fingers expecting cold metal only touched air. Gravity yanked at his body like a giant octopus. Crane felt his heart beat go into overdrive in just a tick of a second. Blood rushed to his head at Mach 10. Vision become clear for a split second, Kyle grabbed the ladder rungs and held on to them with an unearthly grip.

"CRANE!" Taff screamed. "ARE YOU OKAY?!"

"I'd be a lot better if you didn't try to make me deaf!" Crane said with a little laugh. "Sorry Taff. Slipped on some bird shit."

"You need to get off of that ladder. Right now." Taff said.

"Yeah, I probably should, shouldn't I? Oh, what do you know? There's a staircase right in front of where I landed. Wish I saw that sooner. Anyways, I'll ride the rails a little bit and I should be at the target spot in a few minutes.

"I'm going to go check on Chris. Are you sure you don't need anything? Like maybe a bandaid or something?"

"Nooosireeee. I am fresh as a daisy. I assure you, Chris needs your help a lot more than I do."

* * *

A surprise rush of zombies had delayed Chris, who had run out of ammo and was currently running for his life. So, business as usual. Right now he was tearing down an outside walkway, really hoping that no one would come out from the other side and surround him. Especially a Crimson Head. Anything but a Crimson Head.

 _The zombies are on my ass. I need to lose the scent and distract them._  He thought. Chris quickly took off his shirt and threw it over the ledge onto the mansion grounds.

Some of the zombies went after it, and the pack of the undead tripped over each other as some of the compacted group went off the ledge for the shirt, and others tried to pursue Chris.

_Looks like they're all tangled up. That should buy me some time._

As he was about to enter the door back inside, a zombie barged through the door.

On instinct, Chris aimed and pulled the trigger.  _Click._

The zombie grabbed Chris and opened its mouth to bite. Chris shoved the muzzle it its mouth, and kneed the zombie. Jabbing it in the face a few times with the muzzle, Chris swung the gun like a bat and crushed the zombie's skull.

Meanwhile, a zombie reached out to tear into the shirt, jaws open and ready to rip-

Its head bounced on the ground.

Taff reloaded her shotgun. "You. Are. Not. Touching. This. Relic." She picked up the shirt and put it in her pocket.

More and more zombies came near, and Taff found herself surrounded.

"Can't let them get this!" Taff quickly activated her jetpack and flew off.

Chris went inside and looked around the mansion. The hostage was in a metal cage in the middle of the foyer, surrounded by zombies.

 _I'm gonna need a key._  Chris said.  _No doubt the key is somewhere in the basement, or attic, or..._

He realized the key was on a table a few feet away from him.

_Oh, that was easier than expected._

Quietly walking across the hall, Chris picked up the key.  _Now, all I have to do is figure out a way past all those zombies downstairs..._

WOP! WOP! WOP! WOP! WOP!

Alarm bells rang out. Flashing lights shined down on the ceiling.

"What?" Chris looked at the key. It was attached to a small string that led behind the table. This had been a trap. Chris looked down at the wave of zombies going up the stairs.

_Fiddlesticks._

Chris hid inside the bedroom. That's wasn't going to hold them off for long. He looked in the drawers. Nothing. The banging on the door was getting louder. He looked in the closet. Nothing. Rotting fists punched their way through the door. He looked under the bed.

The door gave way, and ravenous creatures of the undead poured in, sauntering forward without a shred of remorse...

VERT!

VERT!

BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTT!

 _Ah, the old M134 Vulcan._ Chris thought. _Complete with complimentary ear muffs. Live long and prosper indeed._

The zombie horde fell in an instant, being shredded muscle from muscle as the bullets tore through them.

"Anyone else?" Chris looked around. "Alrighty then."

Chris opened the cage and swung the hostage over his back. "Let's just get you out of here."

* * *

Crane reached the target building. The hostage was in a metal cage. The cage as surrounded by zombies.

Kyle readied the Cranebar and charged.

_BIFF! BAP! KAPOW! KERTHUNK! SQUELCH! POING! ZONK! SOUND EFFECT!_

Crane was now dripping in the blood of the undead. But he was victorious.

Picking up the key that was lodged in some zombie's intestine, Kyle opened the door. "Now, to get back to the finish line and-"

_SKREEEEEEEE!_

Crane turned around. A Goon was approaching, dragging a rebar with a chunk of concrete at the end scraping the ground. The Goon was wearing a black firefighter's uniform.

"So, you're the final boss, eh?" Kyle wiped the blood off of his Cranebar. "Come on, let's do this."

The Goon roared and ran forward, lugging the rebar behind him before bringing it down in an overhead smash. Kyle sidestepped the clubbing blow and sprung up into the air, swinging the Cranebar. The Cranbar slashed into the Goon's face with its claws.

Crane landed and rolled away. The Goon took one step back. Blood slid down the side of its cheek. It growled at Crane.

 _I just need to keep hacking away._ Crane thought.  _It can't hit me. It's way too slow. Wait a second, how is Chris doing? I can't let him beat me. Shit, I forgot I was on the clock for a second._ _I should hurry this up._

The Goon charged again. Crane found himself up against the wall. If he could time this just right...

The Goon brought his hammer-like weapon down again. Kyle ran up the wall and jumped off as the rebar crashed into the ground again. He bashed the Cranebar into the jaw of The Goon. A nasty  _TWACK!_  sounded out into the air. Kyle went behind the Goon and slashed at the nape of its neck. He could end this if he could sever the spinal cord...

The Goon elbowed Crane in the ribs, knocking him off of his feet. Crane held his chest. Oh yeah, something was cracked. He stumbled back to his feet as the Goon returned.

"RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" The Goon was furious, and it brought the rebar down with force. Crane barely avoided the smashing crunch of the rebar. Crane felt the shockwave go through his body. Including his injured ribs.

"Gah!" He fell down. It was like a giant hand was squeezing him like a doll. He took short, rapid breaths. Crawling away, Crane grabbed a tire to prop himself up back to two feet, getting on the hood of the car.

The Goon smelled blood and moved in for the kill. It brought the rebar down flattening the hood of the car. Crane leaped up top to the roof of the car. He jumped off, ready an overhead smash

The Goon snatched him out of mid-air, grabbing him by the neck. With a roar, the Goon choke-slammed Kyle through the roof. Still holding Crane, the Goon picked him up with one hand and through him through the window of another car.

Kyle laid in the middle seat of the van. Blood was running down his body, staining the interior. He could feel himself slipping in and out of consciousness. Every time he blinked, the Goon was getting closer. Crawling across the seat, Crane reached to the car window and pulled up the lock before opening the door. Spilling out, Kyle crawled away. He heard the van be smashed in behind him. Along with the Goon's confused grunt, and anger at seeing Crane still alive.

Crane used the Cranebar for leverage. He spat out a little blood on the ground. "I've had enough of you. Let's finish this."

The Goon barreled ahead, bringing the rebar down one more time. Crane darted out of the way. He felt the shockwave hit him again. He gritted his teeth as blood came out, his knee buckled, but he was  _not_  dying here.

"Hold this!" Crane threw the Cranebar at the Goon. It got lodged in its eye.

Crane ran forward. Springing on top the rebar, Crane planted his foot on the shoulder of the Goon. Ripping the fireman's helmet off of the Goon with one hand and grabbing the Cranebar with the other, Crane jumped up high in the air.

"You're through!"

Crane drove the Cranebar right through the Goon's skull. The Goon fell to the ground, which brought the Cranebar through the Goon's brain. Crane collapsed on top of the Goon.

A few feet away, Crane saw a medkit. Crawling over, he slowly opened it up and began healing himself. At least back to usable shape.

"Crane? You there?"

"Yeah, Taff. I'm here." Crane said as he was taping himself up.

"It's just that you went a little quiet. You gonna be here soon?"

"Yeah, give it a little bit."

"Okay, just know Chris is almost at the finish line. Sounds like its gonna be a nailbiter. See you soon."

"Wait, WHAT?!"

Throwing the medkit away, Crane got this shoulder, taped the hostage to the back, and started running. He was running harder than the dinosaurs did when that asteroid was headed to Earth. He ran harder to win this race than when guys do to get to their phone they left unlocked before their girl gets to it. This man is running harder to win that competition and save face than we do when we fucked something up and are trying to fix it as soon as we can. And he still losing with such ease. Redfield is going maybe 50% of his max speed vs. Crane running on all 6 cylinders with that Fast and Furious nitro NOS pumping through the valves, engine overclocked going 9000 RPMs, he running at beyond-full-capacity at 3,000% on a fully charged fully loaded twin turbo with spoilers 800cc engine, and he could still feel himself losing.

When he got to the finish line, his fears were confirmed.

Chris was sitting on a lawnchair. Taff sat next to him. They were holding drinks.

Chris pulled off his sunglasses. "Nice to see ya, mate. Weather's fine."

Crane dejectedly dumped his hostage down to the ground as he crossed the finished line.

"Excellent!" Taff got out of her seat. "Nice to see both of you made it." She flashed a smile. "And the winner is Crane!"

"Yep, I totally, WHAT?!" Chris shouted. "I got here first! By like, two hours! How did I lose?"

"Turn the body around Chris."

Chris flipped his doll around. There was a hole in the back.

"Chances are if he's not paralyzed, he's dead. Kyle's innocent is unharmed. Well, he might have a concussion being so unceremoniously dumped onto the ground. But you get the point."

"THAT IS ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT!" Chris said. "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME MY HOSTAGE GOT SHOT?"

"Like it would have helped?"

"MAYBE HE WAS WEARING A VEST! WHAT IF THAT WAS THE CASE?"

"Obviously, he isn't. I mean the bullet went right through him." Taff replied.

"Hate to break it ya buddy, but it looks like I'm the better zombie fighter." Crane gave a shit-eating grin to match his shrug. "See what happens when ya always slinging bullets around. all it takes is for one to go rogue with your shit aim and bam. Hostage dead."

"So, time for the special punishment!" Taff rubbed her hands together. "Chris, strip down."

"Are you serious? Am I actually doing this?" Chris said.

" _Sssssstriiiiiiiip_   _Dooooown._ " Taff whispered in his ear. "And look, you've already lost your shirt. You're already halfway naked anyway. Crane. Get the sauce!"

As Chris tearfully took off his clothes, Crane pulled a wagon, which carried buckets of barbecue sauce. "Gonna put a BBQ on this BBQutie!"

Together, Crane and Taff slathered down Chris in enough BBQ sauce to drown a cow.

"Now, release the zombies!" Taff said as she and Crane hid behind a barricade. "Chris, you have five minutes to

"Survive and I'll lick it off ya." Taff had the camera extra zoomed in: watching the BBQ sauce drip off of Chris' bouncing boisterous bowling-ball buttcheeks. _If they don't tear that ass off, I will..._

"Om...nom. Raa. Raa..Redfield, you taste so chewy. Nom. Nom...Wh-what? Chris? Kyle?" Taff realized she was gnawing on her Redfield doll. It was just a dream. A beautiful, beautiful, dream.

Taff jumped right out of bed and opened her computer, going straight to Ulysses on her Mac. Dreams don't take long to fade from the memory, but this one would not be forgotten so easily.

_Except... have them both lose...yeah. Two hot slabs of meat covered in BBQ sauce. That's what I call a damn good cookout._

_Yum._


	4. Short Story 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the conclusion of a game.

"Well DS?" Twisted said smugly. "Aren't you going to draw?"

DS looked at his hand, a bead of sweat dripping down the side of his face. One card. One card was separating him from victory. A red 2. He had been battling the world champion of Uno, Twisted, for hours now. Back and forth. Back and forth. The card on the top of the pile was a blue 8.

DS growled. "I don't know why you're being so arrogant." His hand wavered over the draw pile. "All I need is an 8 to change the color and you're finished!"

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!" DS laughed. "You really don't see it? Even now? You fool!" He pointed to the pile. "There are no more 8s! Look for yourself."

DS gasped. There was an 8 here. An 8 there. One by one, he saw the shapes of 8s in the messy pile. "You...you set me up." His hand started to tremble.

"Indeed I did," Twisted said. "You played your last 8 5 minutes ago! And now, it's over DS! Once you put down a blue card, I'll win!"

"There...there has to be something I can do!"

"There's nothing you can do but admit defeat DS!" Twisted pointed at him. "I am the Uno world champion, and I will always be the best. Now, draw your last pathetic card so I can end this DS."

DS looked at the card. One card was separating him from defeat. "No matter what, I believe in the heart of the cards."

He closed his eyes. "I'll put everything I have into this one card. I DRAW!"

A blinding light emerged as DS raised the card high in the air.

"What's going on?" Twisted raised his arms to block the light away.

"I activate the Draw 4!" DS said, slamming the card down into the pile.

"NANI?!" Twisted couldn't believe it. "IMPOSSIBLE! HOW DID YOU DRAW THAT CARD?!"

"I trusted the heart of the cards! They will never fail me!" DS said. "Now, Draw 4. OBLITERATE!"

A light shot out from the card, blasting Twisted into the air. 4 cards fell with him as he tumbled to the ground.

"UNO!" DS said. "And now, for my last card! I'll make the color red, and put down my 2!" He slammed his red 2 on the table. "It's over Twisted. You've lost!"

"I-I-Impossible..." Twisted said.

"Oh, it's possible alright," DS said. "When it comes to Uno, I'm number 1"


End file.
